


La Maza

by sirin_thebird



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Angst, Depression, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Self-Esteem Issues, Sleep Deprivation, Tags Are Hard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 13:54:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17920082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirin_thebird/pseuds/sirin_thebird
Summary: Ash and Shorter have been living a carefree student life for the past several years, but it has to end someday, and the ending is sooner than they want it to be. They have to figure their lives out in their own separate ways, and life helpfully gives them some options. Acting on them, though, is a whole different story.





	La Maza

**Author's Note:**

> I have been sitting on this idea for a while now, mainly because I fell in love with WongLung while watching Banana Fish. I am a timid writer still and I'll be happy to hear your feedback and ideas. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy it!

It is an unusually hot day for September in New York. Those who were brave enough to leave the comfort of their air-conditioned living rooms or office cubicles are wandering down the street, seemingly slower than usual, using anything that would pass as a fan to direct sizzling hot air at their faces. The curvy pedestrian street filled with edgy artistic outlets and a full kaleidoscope of bars and small clubs should have already been buzzing with excited energy of the impending Friday night, but it seems like life slowed to a halt awaiting the sun to finally melt and drip below the horizon. Well, they have a good hour to wait.

 

Inside the small tattoo parlor nestled between a tiny coffee shop with chipped wooden countertops and a stuffy vintage clothing store, all the main lights are already out. There is no reason to stay open late on slow days like this when the majority of their customers are still enjoying the last of summer days out of the town. Only one faint source of light is visible through the panoramic glass window facing the street.

 

Shorter has been mindlessly spinning a pencil in his hand for the past ten minutes. Nothing is working and it is too hot to even bother trying anymore. It feels like his brain is swimming in the puddle of its own sweat. He finally drops the pencil and turns off the lamp, having reached an easy decision to fuck it all and just head home. He still has time to think his project over; the semester has just started. Shorter stands up from his swiveling fake-leather chair, stretching and trying to unstick his tank top and jeans from his sweaty skin. Even though he is rarely the one to miss out on a good Friday night out the only thing he truly wants is to take an ice-cold shower, stuff his face with their regular takeout “every-ingredient-possible” pizza and pass out. The week has been exhausting enough with the whole ordeal of moving to a new flat in the dorms with Ash and trying to figure out and match his work and study schedules.

 

Sorter slowly makes his way down the street, keys jingling in his hand. Despite the heat, it is still a beautiful evening. The windows on the left side of the street shine pink and orange reflecting the first shy sunset colors of the skies. A pitch-black stray cat Carbon stretches lazily on the stone steps of the optical shop, warming his silky side on the heated granite, and Shorter can’t help but get out of his way to stop by and give Carbon a few scratches behind his attentive ear. Shorter reaches the corner of the street, where the last of the waterfront breeze has managed to sneak its way between the buildings. The loose sweaty strands of his ruined mohawk sway weekly, making his forehead itchy and the thoughts of a cold shower more appealing by the minute.

 

The dorm building is not that far away, just a fifteen-minute walk from the corner, but Shorter stops again all the while cursing his curiosity. He could have been halfway home already, and Ash has probably already ordered pizza. If he doesn’t hurry, Ash will take it upon himself to choose a movie for the night, and Shorter is not in the mood to witness another bloody heart-wrenching spy drama from his best friends list. But the small cozy spot right on the corner in the junction of the two pedestrian streets which has been empty for ages is now all lit up and there is a big truck just outside. Two moving guys are unloading a variety of cardboard boxes of different size and configuration, directed by a small Chinese woman in an oversized shawl. The woman points several boxes with her tiny pink umbrella which in Shorter’s eyes is more fitted for a doll and barks a command with a raspy trembling voice. Its Cantonese, Shorter realizes, and he can’t figure out a single word because the only language spoken in his household back in the days was Mandarin; before him and Nadia moved to the States all these years ago.

 

“Hey, mademoiselle!” Shorter calls out, already wearing an easy smile. “Are you moving in here?”

 

The lady turns around and her small wrinkly face lights up like a Christmas tree. It’s a trait inherent to a lot of old ladies when they see a youth who they instantly group under the list of potential adoptive grandchildren even though Shorter, a 6 feet tall young man with a messy purple mohawk, might have been far from a beloved grandson of a proper overprotective nanny.

 

“Yeah, honey,” she croaks sweetly, “I’m moving my flower shop over here from Queens, although I doubt this broomstick closet will fit all of my babies.”

 

“Babies…”

 

“My flowers!” she laughs cheerfully as if Shorter just didn’t understand what she meant and not questioned whether she was mentally sound. “I want to open on Monday so I hope these two assholes will manage,” she glares in the general direction of the two workers and Shorter snickers despite himself.

 

“Well let’s hope,” Shorter says awkwardly, having no idea how to respond to any of her talk.

 

“Stella Wang,” the lady announces suddenly, stretching her bony hand out. Shorter returns a surprisingly firm handshake.   

 

“Shorter Wong. I work at the tattoo parlor down the street.”

 

“Ah, of course!” the lady smiles, giving Shorter a once-over, tattooed hands from wrist to shoulder, brow piercing and all. Shorter rubs the back of his head sheepishly, lacking any thought on how or whether at all to proceed with this conversation.

 

“I’ll go back to work, and you go enjoy your evening. Promise me to stop by sometimes!” the lady insists, pointing her crooked finger with a long manicured nail at Shorter’s chest. “And don’t let your guard down or I’ll sneak up behind you and shave this monstrosity off of your head,” she smiles wickedly and winks at him before scurrying past Shorter to yell at the workers again. Shorter starts walking a little faster than his comfortable pace, spurred on by a threat that he thinks is not at all empty.

 

He is thinking of nothing in particular, mind pleasantly blank of worries when halfway to his dorm building, he notices a dark figure separate from the ragged brick wall filled to the brim with modern rock paintings and half-torn posters. Shorter groans internally; he wants to go home in peace, not fight off some junkies or members of the lowest casts of local gangs. The figure makes its way towards him, and when the light hits it Shorter was equally relieved and annoyed to find out that it’s just Ash with a huge grey hoody on and a basketball tucked between his arm and his side.

 

“You know what? Fuck you,” Shorter grumbles, felling the adrenaline crawl unpleasantly under his skin.

 

“Fuck you too,” Ash chirps, unfazed. “One on one?” he asks, holding the ball out. Shorter immediately knocks the ball out.

“Arentcha tired, Ash? I’m drained and I need a shower like really desperately,” Shorter complains half-heartedly, already weighing his options. He might as well use some physical activity after the whole day of sitting on his ass.

 

"C'mon, grandpa, I'll treat you to pizza afterward!"

 

“You treat me to pizza and let me pick a movie,” Shorter bargains. If Ash wants to spoil his peaceful evening, he is going to ruin Ashe’s movie night.

 

“Okay, okay,” Ash yields with a sour look after a moment of hesitation. “What you got against my taste in cinematography?” Ash asks mock offended as they began walking towards the local community basketball court tucked snugly between a bald square with scraggy birches and a c-shaped social housing unit.

 

“I swear to God Ash I don’t wanna lose sleep tonight because of another deep psychological drama you force on me. You better find yourself an equally fucked up girlfriend so you can watch that depressing shit and wail like two toddlers together.”

 

“Watch it! One day I will, and you will be forever banned from occupying the living room and munching on your disgusting instant noodles half naked in the middle of the night and you’ll be stuck watching Legally Blond all by yourself in your room, _alone_.”

 

"Wow, that's what I get for being a good best friend and being there for you in the time of need?" Shorter clutched the fabric of his tank top over his heart dramatically. “And for your information Legally Blonde is a good movie. Top notch cinematography.”

 

Ash chuckles at that, bouncing the ball on the cracked pavement. As they reach the court Shorter has already started to regret ever agreeing to this. He is tired and sore from sitting in one position for the whole day, he is hungry as hell and most importantly he is shit at basketball. He has practiced various types of martial arts throughout his life, currently stuck with perfecting his jujitsu skills, but oddly enough he seems to lack the grace and precision for ball games, not to mention his aim is off on most occasions. ‘ _Why am I even doing it to myself?’_ is his only thought while he stretches his numb muscles as best as he can. He does know the answer, though; he wants to indulge Ash. They’ve been stuck to the hip since they were preteens and ever since then Shorter took it upon himself to make Ash happy, even with such trivial things as letting him whip his ass in basketball. He is not going to break this pattern. Ash deserves happiness, he deserves to win and to be an asshole sometimes, he deserves to smile and heal from everything that happened to him. Besides, it is always fascinating to watch him move on the court.

 

Ash has already scored 13 points, the last one through a powerful slam dunk when both of them started getting out of breath. Shorter might not be the next Yao Ming, but he is decent enough in defense to make Ash work for it. Shorter can see his chance for a rebound, but his hands are slow and heavy. His fingertips barely slide against the smooth rubbery surface of the ball when he trips over his own foot and goes down gracelessly on his side like a sack of potatoes. Ash laughs out loud trying to catch his breath and not choke on his spit. Shorter couldn’t care less; he stretches on the dusty concrete, feeling the pleasant warmth and heaviness in his muscles. The sun has already set, and their choked-up laughter is the only sound bouncing off the walls and echoing in the cooling air. Ash sits beside him breathing heavily, his laughter subsiding to occasional giggles. Shorter’s cheeks hurt from smiling so much, the breeze is cool and pleasant on his overheated skin, he is exhausted and at that moment nothing else matters other than that and knowing that Ash probably feels the same way, calm and happy. Shorter hates basketball and loosing, but he doesn’t regret giving in to Ashe’s idea one bit.

 

They trudge all the way to the dorm building in comfortable silence. Shorter doesn’t want to ruin the mood by thinking too hard about life at the moment, so he dodges all the occasional deep thoughts in favor of coming up with the movie for the night. The melodramatic look on Ashe’s face suggests that he has fallen into the rabbit hole of contemplating all of his past life choices, so Shorter leaves him be and keeps silent.

 

Their dorm building has a nice courtyard with a tiny shed serving as a shared laundry room and a row of black dumpsters lined up to the wall. It could use a few benches, but you can’t have it all so Ash sprawls out right on the ground. He stares at the sky dotted with pale stars while Shorter fishes a wrinkly bag of rolling tobacco out of his deep pocket and expertly rolls two cigarettes. He joins Ash on the ground, shoulder to shoulder, and they enjoy their cigarettes in silence staring at the patch of navy blue stuck between four brick walls. Shorter tries his best to not dwell on his existential problems and instead just focus on the bright North Star and fill his head with the hollow void. He is relieved when the moment is broken by Ash slowly peeling himself off the ground.

 

“Arentcha too young to make this many dad noises?” Shorter throws from the floor in response to Ashe’s sighs and grunts. Ash just glares at him with no real heat while Shorter stands up too, concentrating on not making more noise than Ash did. Who said they can’t act like four-year-old’s butting heads while being actual grown adults? Nobody.

 

They make their way to their flat on the fourth floor, slowly climbing the stairs while Shorter tells Ash about the new flower shop on the corner and the weird old lady who owns it. Ash huffs out a laugh when Shorter tells him about the close possibility of having his mohawk being shaven off.

 

“Here you thought you might have some cute girl standing behind the counter surrounded by orchids sometime soon.”

 

“Now that I think about it it could’ve been nice for a change. I know everyone who’s even remotely cute up and down the street and in college,” Shorter scratches his chin in thought.

 

“And you hooked up with at least half of those people,” Ash deadpans, fishing the keys out of his pocket. Shorter puts up the most innocent look he can master.

 

“I ain't’ forcin’ anyone into my bed you know. Don’t come at me just because people can’t resist my raw sex appeal.”

 

Ash just laughs some more, drops the ball unceremoniously right on his discarded hand-me-down sneakers and rushes straight to the bathroom.

 

“You lost, I hit the shower first. And don’t even dare lay on the couch in your dirty clothes, you sweaty pig!” Ash throws over his shoulder standing at the bathroom door.

 

“As you wish, your highness!” Shorter yells in the general direction of the sound of the door shutting. Ash usually takes fucking ages in the shower so Shorter, defeated, resorts to giving a call to their regular pizza place and moving to their tiny living room to rummage through his personal collection of DVDs. Ash mocked him to no end when he found out that Shorter still owns a case full of actual DVDs and prefers them to simply stream whatever movie he likes. Shorter could care less. He might be a tad sentimental and old fashioned but sue him if it's bad to want a physical collection of his favorite films.

 

Ten minutes later he finds himself staring thoughtlessly at the Legally Blonde disc, mind having wandered back to Ashe's comment about having a cute girl work at the new shop. He could care less about the gender of the person, but it really would be nice to find someone. Well, someone special. Shorter rubs his face, realizing belatedly how dirty his palms must be. It's honestly pretty stupid, he thinks. He has been content with being friends with benefits with all of his exes, but the thought of maybe settling down with someone has become more and more intrusive over the past year, and Nadia’s nagging hasn’t been making it any easier. But as annoying as it is, she’s right. Shorter has been going with the flow for way too long, the looming feeling of his life running through his fingers sometimes so unbearable it keeps him awake at night. In a world where people, especially men, are forced by the society to be the leaders, to constantly fight the world and push harder still, where that same society refuses to acknowledge that people cannot do that without a support system, or they are just not made for fighting, it took Shorter long enough to realize that he is by no means a lone wolf. He needs someone with such drive and passion that it would be contagious. He needs a push, he needs someone to care so that he can knock the world flat. Maybe it means being a power vampire. Shorter sits with this thought for a while, pulling at the strands of his purple hair mindlessly. No, he decides finally, it’s not quite that. He is able to give back as much as he receives, even more than that. So much for trying to keep the evening light and simple, he chuckles humorlessly to himself.

 

Ash finally emerges from the bathroom surrounded by an impressive cloud of steam. The everything pizza has already arrived and Shorter rushes into the bathroom before Ash can start bitching about his choice of movie for the evening. Shorter spends almost as much time as Ash did under the cool spray, contemplating his choices in life and dreaming about that amazing lemon chicken Nadia makes him sometimes when he visits. He finally feels refreshed when he climbs out of their teeny tiny shower cabin. The sink mirror is still completely fogged up; how could Ash bear a hot shower after the daytime excruciating heat and a game of basketball is beyond Shorter’s understanding. He still wipes the middle of it just to confirm that he looks completely worn out and the bags under his eyes are so big he could carry all of his tattoo guns in them. He sighs and walks into his room to fetch clean clothes, still rubbing water out of the buzz cut parts of his hair; the thick hair of his mohawk is always a lost cause and will take half of the night to air dry. 

 

They finally sprawl out on the couch which takes up almost ninety percent of their living room, pizza between them, and dive into the peripeteia and conflicts of the life of Elle Woods. Shorter’s mind wanders when Elle starts her preparation for Harvard exams. The atmosphere is deceptively relaxed, but he can’t help but feel the melancholic vibe to it. It’s their last year in college, their last year living together the simple students’ lives in the dorms, and every such movie night is going to be precious from now on. Shorter has one last year to figure out which direction his life is supposed to move to get him somewhere he wants to, not that he has a clear idea of what exactly he even wants. But the thought that Ash is in the same boat and they can figure shit out together is comforting enough to lift some tension off his shoulders. They doze off somewhere close to the end of the movie, and it’s carefree and precious too.

**Author's Note:**

> I have not decided on the update schedule yet because it depends heavily on my inspiration and overall mental state, but I will try to be as consistent as possible.
> 
> Also, you can find me on [tumblr](https://sirinthebird.tumblr.com/) if you want to tell me something anonymously.


End file.
